Broken
by MarenMary93
Summary: While dad and Sammy is fighting each other, Dean is fighting everything else. But no one really sees how broken he is. He hides it well... Hurt!Dean, Worried!Sam, Worried!John. Crutches, painkillers (maybe future pill abuse?) And Dean carries the world on his shoulders as always...
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, it's been a real long time since I really wrote anything. I don't know how many chaps this will be at the end.**

 **This story is set pre-series. Sam is 16ish and Dean is 20ish…**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **SPN**

It was on again. The same damn bickering he had heard the last ten years. Over and over again, never ending, never really changing. Ever since his kid brother had turned six, he had been up against their dad. Always questioning, always commenting, always ready to pick a fight.

And it was driving Dean out of his mind. He was unbelievably tired of it all, because he was always the one left to mend their relationship back together.

"You know what?" Sammy's voice echoed throughout the house they were squatting in, "The way you're trying to find mom's killer, the way you've spent the last sixteen years… It's unhealthy! It's madness and you should know it! Healthy people move on!"

The words cut through the first floor, and they cut deep into Dean's soul. Sure, it was their dad who was the boss when it came to what they hunted and when they hunted. But he knew he wanted to kill the son of a bitch just as much as his old man. The damn thing had killed his mother! And Sam's mother… Sometimes he wondered whether Sam was better off not knowing their mom. Even though she had been all golden and pure, the perfect mom…

He heard something clatter on the floor. It sounded like if someone had flipped over a table full of things. And knowing their dad, that would be exactly what happened…

Dean pushed himself to a sitting position on his makeshift bed. (A couch with two seats… And a tall chair to rest his left leg on…) He winced as pain shot up through his leg. A foul landing a couple of weeks back still caused him great grief. His knee was all colors between black and yellow, which included blue, pink, red, green, grey and purple. And to top that off, it was almost twice the size of his right one.

He looked towards the door to the kitchen, where family war number 265 was in the making. He really wasn't up for this. He was so damn tired… So damn exhausted…  
But if he only stayed there, it would probably end in a burial… Given his family's skills it was almost a certainty…

Dean pulled himself to his feet, it was agonizing and he bit back a yelp as his left leg protested. He cussed under his breath and fiddled through his pocket for the small orange container. He popped a pill into his mouth and swallowed it dry. They weren't quite sure whether it was Vicodin or Percocet or whatever… But it took the edge off, so all was good.

He growled as he started limping heavily towards the door. They were yelling on the other side of the door, Dean did no longer focus on the words flying back and forth similar to knives being thrown.

He gritted his teeth as he grabbed a hold of the handle, he had to place a lid over his pain. There was no use in letting their father know that his knee still wasn't up to speed. It had been almost a month for heaven's sake…

"I hate you!" Sammy yelled out for their father.

"You don't know what you're saying, Brat!" John countered, and Dean thanked higher powers that their dad was sober. "You'll know when you go through hardship yourself!"

"Like I've never had a rough time?" Sam growled back, "Most kids my age worry 'bout zits, grades and school! I worry 'bout 'Am I gonna get shot tonight at the hunt?' or 'Are my brother gonna get hurt?' or 'Are we gonna have to rely on a fake insurance this week, are we gonna need the hospital this week?' Yeah, I've never know hardship!"

"You don't know nothing!" John basically hollered.

"I know enough to know that this isn't right! This is not how life is supposed to be!"

Dean opened the door and moved silently over to the so-called kitchen table. It looked like it had been thrown away seven times, and found in a dumpster by some unlucky bastard each and every time…

Dean cleared his throat and prepared to shout. "Stop it!"

Neither his brother or his father reacted. They were too busy stabbing each other with insults to care about anything else that what was right in front of them.

"Stop it!" Dean yelled again, this time a little louder. Neither of them flinched.

Dean sighed. He knew what it would take to break up the fight, but he was not happy about it…

Just as John was about to grab a hold of Sammy's shoulder, Dean stepped between them. He used himself as a human shield between his ignorant father and his angry brother. His dad ended up grabbing a hold of his shoulder instead, throwing him a bit off balance.

Dean doubled over as his knee lit up like a firework. The one misstep made his stomach roll. He couldn't keep from letting out a sharp cry, he wasn't the master over it.

"Dean!" Sammy snapped out of arguing with their dad immediately.

His dad shoved him away, sending Dean to the floor in a heap.

Dean curled in on himself, bracing his aching left knee with all his might. First then did his father understand that he had done something wrong.

"Oh crap, Dean!" John threw himself down beside his oldest, the quarrel between himself and his youngest already forgotten.

But Dean had more than enough with focusing on not passing out, so he didn't answer.

"Are you hurt, son?" His father's hands patted over his body in search for blood or anything obviously wrong.

"He wouldn't collapse like that if he wasn't!" Sammy bit back.

"What is it Ace?" John brushed a rugged hand through Dean's hair. "What hurts?"

 _My damn knee!_ Dean wasn't able to utter the words, but he figured the way he was clinging on to it might reveal it anyway… At least he hoped so…

John continued to pat Dean down, but froze when a slight touch to his son's knee caused the boy to cry out in pain.

"When did you bust your knee?" he asked confused, debating how bad a father he was to have overlooked something like this. It was clear to him that this wasn't a fresh injury. Dean's knee was too swollen and hot for that…

"Didn't he sport a limp after the hunt in Milwaukee?" Sammy asked, trying to help.

John looked up as it dawned on him. Then he looked down at Dean, who laid on the ground clutching his leg with tears rolling down his cheeks as he nodded to what Sammy had said.

John shook his oldest son's shoulder slightly to get his attention. When Dean stilled a little he locked eyes with him. "Milwaukee?"

Dean nodded and let out a sob.

"Shit, Ace… That's almost a month ago…" John Winchester felt awful, his son had gone with an aching leg, a bad one by the looks of it, and he had been oblivious to it… "Has it been this bad all along?"

John felt his heart shattering when Dean held still for a couple of seconds before he nodded.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"No insurance?" Dean managed to bite out in a shaky voice.

"Yeah, but we fixed that two weeks ago…" John felt frustrated, why did his son feel the need to suffer through this instead of mentioning it to him? "Let's get you to the hospital…"

Dean shook his head, and both Sammy and their dad stared at him.

"Tomorrow…" he pleaded as he slowly gained control of his voice and body.

John sighed and looked at his watch. It was nearly 3 a.m. The ER would be packed at this hour on a Saturday night.

"Okay… Tomorrow…" John sighed, "Sammy, can you help me get your brother to bed?"

Sammy nodded and ducked under Dean's left arm while John took the right side.

 **SPN**

 **Okay, hope you enjoyed the first chapter. And that my writing didn't come off as too rusty for y'all…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! Thanks for the comments! It's been a long time since I really wrote anything and posted it, so it's nice to see that you guys still read whatever little old me writes…**

 **So, here comes the second part of this story. Hope you enjoy…**

 **SPN**

It was agony. But he wasn't quite sure what was worse… The actual pain radiating from his leg, or the fact that his dad and Sammy half-carried him back to his 'bed'. A little bit of both, he guessed.

"Hey, boy…" his dad prompted, and Dean looked over at him. His vision was still slightly blurry from the tears, but he could still make out his dad's worried expression.

"Yeah…" damn, he hated how weak his voice seemed.

"If something like this ever happens again…"

Dean nodded, ready for a scolding.

"Please tell us… Ain't no use in waiting for yourself to collapse in front of us…"

Dean was a bit surprised by his father's lack of anger. He had been prepared for one of John Winchester's trademark anger fits.

A little unsure of how to respond, Dean used a second or two before he nodded.

"Good, son…"

SPNSPNSPN

A scream ripped from his lungs as they lowered him onto the sofa. Something in his knee definitely shifted. Like, something inside there slid against something else! In a way nothing should!

Both Sammy and John froze.

"Down! Down!" Dean sputtered gritting his teeth. "Put me down!"

His family obliged and lowered him fully on to the couch, where Dean found it fitting to grab a hold of his left knee in an attempt to steady it.

"Dean, what…?" Sammy started nodding towards his brother's knee.

"Something jarred…" Dean growled back in a deep guttural voice. And if Sammy hadn't known that possessed people sounded exactly like everyone else, he would have sworn that Dean was possessed at the moment.

"Ouch… That doesn't sound good…" John commented, "You sure you don't want to go to the hospital tonight?"

Dean grimaced, he knew that moving would be a bitch. But he also knew that one day difference wouldn't make that much a difference any more… It was weeks since he had injured his leg, a day wouldn't mean much. And the thought of not having to move for the next 6 to 8 hours was tempting.

"Yeah, the couch is comfy… I'll go to the hospital tomorrow…"

John almost chuckled at his oldest' way of deciding when to go to the hospital. But he understood it, he had at times waited to get fixed up himself to have a night of rest…

"Okay, Ace…" He rubbed Dean's shoulder. "You just holler if you need anything…"

Dean nodded.

"Maybe you could use a couple of painkillers?" Sammy chimed in, about ready to go find the first aid kit.

"I have already taken two…" Dean said as he fished up the orange cylinder. "I named them Mystery Painkillers, not sure if it's Vicodin or whatever…"

John chuckled, "I think it was Percocet we managed to snag the last time… Does pretty much the same thing though…"

Dean nodded, "Was afraid it was some sort of vitamins at first... But the pain dulled down, so I figured they were Mystery Painkillers."

John nodded, "And I suppose you've taken a couple before you went out to us?"

"Yeah… Hopefully they'll start working any minute now…"

John nodded.

"Hey dad…" Dean started, a bit uneasy.

"Yeah…"

"You think you could…" Dean trailed off and glanced over at the chair he used to rest his leg on earlier. "Do you think you could help me get my leg up on that…?"

John looked over at the chair with two moldy pillows on top, and he felt a pang of guilt. He knew how bad Dean would have to be to break down over pain, he knew that meant most men would end up like a sobbing heap on the floor… He knew that meant that EVERY movement had to hurt… And somehow he hadn't figured that his son wouldn't be able to prop his own leg up on that chair…  
He felt like the worst father… He probably was the worst father… But he didn't know how to do better in a world like this… Before he knew of monsters and demons and all that, he would have sworn he would never hurt his kids. Never lay a hand on them, never cause them pain… Emotional or physical…  
Somehow that had become ordinary to them… He held no longer count of how many times he had hit Dean, held no longer count of how many times he had forced Dean to push through pain to finish a job. The worst was… He didn't only hit during training… He knew what booze did to him…  
But, he held count over Sammy… He had only hit him 12 times, outside practice…

"Sure, Deano…" John answered, in the exact same voice and manner he used when Dean was a toddler with a scrape on his knee…

Dean almost chuckled, hadn't it been for the fact that his leg felt like it was being ripped apart from the inside…

 **SPN**

 **Okay, hope you enjoyed it…**

 **I feel like, even though John Winchester screwed up his sons… A lot… He tried to be a decent parent. You know, when he was sober, when they weren't training and when there weren't any supernatural threats around… So I figure he felt a lot of guilt he never spoke about…**


End file.
